Tag Archives: food

April 23, 2012

There’s a Hole in My Bucket List

By Simon

Sweet

The Chewy Freeze. 

I have talked about my love of gum before here.  People that know me well are aware of this affinity and for Christmas this year I received a case of a new minty fresh type that I was particularly appreciative of.  I try to pay attention to little things that I come across on a day-to-day basis that are particularly sweet and add a bit of awesome to an otherwise ho-hum day.  This happened on Saturday as I was chewing a piece of gum and grabbed the cup in the console and tossed in a few pieces of ice.  I hadn’t done it in a while but I love chewing gum and ice together.  This was exactly one of those sweet things that I like to earmark and remember.  It wasn’t just any ice either, which is what made it even better.  It was that tiny pellet ice that you remember from concession stands at little league.   I think we can all agree that pellet ice is the best ice ever.  That ice chews up perfectly and combined with gum that gets partially frozen and hard  is totally sweet.

Weak

It May not be a Marathon, But I did Run an Errand Once. 

Last week I read  this great blog post by Maggie.  Since then I have had the “bucket list” concept come up several other times.  A friend of mine is playing The Old Course at St. Andrews today and my grandmother flew in a sail plane a few months ago.  People are climbing mountains and starting non-profits and catching salmon with their bare hands.  My recent triumph was finally getting a few days of old gym clothes out of my trunk and into the laundry, gross I know.  Thinking about all of the amazing experiences this world has to offer sometimes makes me feel small.  I don’t worry though that my bucket list may have a leak or even that no formal list has been made.  I may never take up falconry on the weekends or spend the night in an igloo, but I do have goals.  Goals that are achievable (I think) and goals that would make my life better.  It may not be enough to fill a whole bucket but from a guy trying to be the best husband and dad he can be, here are a few excerpts from my teaspoon list.

1. Get rid of the two dirt spots in the front lawn.

2. Break down all those boxes in the garage and take them to the recycling place.

3. Play an entire game of football on the X Box  just like before  kids.

4. Start the day with something other than profanity when the alarm goes off at 5:30.

5. Learn some kind of basic “in case of emergency” hair styling strategy for my daughters in case my wife isn’t home.

6.  Try out that taco truck everyone keeps talking about.

7. Remember to buy stamps and get the trash out to the curb on time.

8. Figure out some kind of alternative energy solution fueled by dryer lint and dropped goldfish.

9. Hit all green lights.

10. Remember (just once) to bring those re-usable grocery bags to the store.

I have done some pretty cool stuff and I am sure that there will be more cool stuff to come.  I won’t feel empty if I don’t drive a Formula One car or see the march of the penguins in person.  I am happy for you folks that are out their building a violin from a tree in your backyard, and nursing an injured koala back to health with goat’s milk from your own goat.  For me though, calling a bunch of crap I will probably never do “my bucket list” is totally weak.

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April 18, 2012

Don’t Mind if I Do

By Simon

Sweet

Bonus! 

There are so many wonderful things about parenthood and raising a child that they are hard to list.  The magic in your child’s eyes when they are truly happy, the moment when the light bulb goes off and they learn something new;  those moments are sometimes like the one perfect golf shot in a horrible round.  You faced your fair share of frustration but those few key moments make up for them all and continue to re-enforce your love of the game.

I think all of that emotional junk is truly wonderful and great rewards to parenthood but I think it is time we discuss one of the more tangible wins that parenthood provides.  I want to talk to you about the bonus nugget.  That’s right, the 6th nugget of a 6 piece meal.  That little reward for being a good dad.  Not all gratification is instant but every now and then there it sits, giving you a little wink and saying, “atta boy, I’m all yours.”

It may sound silly but when that lone nugget remains and your kid has moved onto the playground or decided to finally attempt in public their Houdini high chair escape they have been perfecting at home, you grab that little reward, dunk it in polynesian sauce, and relish in parenthood sweetness.  But don’t take too long chewing a victory lap, your kid is about to bust their head open when her feet get tangled in the high chair straps.  get in the game buddy, the party is over.

The Bonus Nugget is totally sweet.

 

Weak

Three Gallons of Mustard 

The first time I ever wandered into a warehouse membership store (Costco, BJ’s, Sams, etc.)  I wasn’t married, didn’t have any kids, and still left with a three gallon tub of mustard.  Somewhere along the line I got caught up in the hype and the thought of being the mustard king for only six dollars was a bit intoxicating.  Two years later I threw away 2.5 gallons of old crusty mustard that had not been refrigerated after opening.  Who has room for a keg of mustard in their refrigerator?

Now that I am a family guy we take advantage of the local discount club and tend to have a better strategy when it comes to running an inventory of household necessities.  Some products like paper towels and diapers are stockpiled into a seemingly endless supply and some inventory like milk run in a” just in time” inventory management system.  There are benefits to both and they each have their drawbacks as well.  The only thing worse than being out of milk is having milk within 2 days of the expiration date (on either side), and where in your house is there enough room to store a pickup truck load full of paper products?

The worst part of the buying in bulk strategy is that it lulls you into a false sense of security with your seemingly infinite supply.  You start letting the baby empty an entire box of tissue because it is cute and when a drink is spilled you just put the entire roll of paper towels on top of it and step down until the quicker picker upper finishes its magic.  My wife isn’t a huge fan of this type of behavior but when our basement looks like a nuclear fall-out shelter full of supplies some of that stuff needs to be used.

It seems like it will last forever but guess what?  It doesn’t.  And though it may take months, when it is gone it always catches you off guard.  Walking into your bathroom and seeing an empty roll holder and a stack of yellow Wendy’s napkins on the back of the toilet is totally weak.

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April 13, 2012

Mr. Sandman Bring Me a Dream

By Simon

I don’t think this classifies as sweet or weak but it was definitely weird.

Remember Me?

Doogie Howser sings Bring Me a Dream Season 4 Episode 10 (Vinnie deals with insomnia) You should click this.

I was in a city, Denver I think, and I was walking down the street with some time to spare before meeting the rest of my group at dinner.  I walked across the street and into a shop and started looking at clothes when I realized there was a particular theme to this clothing.  Kermit the Frog.  The shop had every item of clothing imaginable from formal wear to socks and underwear and they all had something to do with Kermit the Frog.  At the time this didn’t seem the slightest bit strange and I flipped through a rack of plaid green shorts as my attention was drawn to an old familiar voice.

I looked up and I saw an old friend that I hadn’t seen since high school walking up to me to show me the leather biker jacket he was purchasing.  It should have been odd to see him so far from home but we began talking like old friends and commenting on the jacket and how instead of a leather strap at the top of the zipper it had a green bow tie.  I noticed a girl behind him obviously flirting with him and commenting on his selection as well.  I also recognized her from high school but he acted like he didn’t even know her.  I should have realized that something strange was going on but didn’t find anything odd until I turned around to look at the shorts again and they were gone.  Everything was gone.  I saw two sales people both vaguely familiar rapidly removing the racks of merchandise into some sort of closet.  The room was suddenly empty and I was alone.  I couldn’t find a door to leave and a woman that once again I recognized pointed to a side door and told me I could exit there as it was the last door unlocked.

I walked out of the building thinking it was a bit strange but not unsettled in the slightest.  It was almost time to meet my friends and kids and I had a long walk ahead of me.  To my surprise a guy pulled up in an older red pickup truck.  It was a friend that I haven’t seen in close to ten years.  Again, we had gone to high school together.  I got in his truck and realized that he was part of the group of friends I was there with.  He told me that the group had changed plans and we were meeting at a different restaurant.  He said it was closer and really good and we started heading in that direction.  I fiddled with my cell phone and then looked down and saw my bare feet.  What the Hell?  Where had my shoes gone?  I had them on just a……I suddenly realized I had no idea how long I had been barefoot but was certain that I had left wearing shoes.

My friend said it was no problem and we would swing back by our hotel so I could put on another pair.  We pulled into the parking garage in the basement of the hotel and then suddenly I was in my room;  on my knees in a closet trying to find two shoes that matched.  There must have been a hundred shoes in a pile and the task wasn’t easy.

The door to the hotel opened and the room was flooded with people.  Some close friends that I see all the time, others friends from long ago that I haven’t seen in years.  None of that seemed strange.  My wife walked in with our oldest daughter and two other little girls who I recognized but I don’t remember who they were.  My daughter was crying.  My wife was glowing and telling me about a place she had found in the city that had all of these free games you could play that were very challenging but had great prizes if you won.  She had been there for a long time and my daughter was upset because the games were too hard for kids.

I guess I found a pair of shoes because the next thing I remember we were all walking into a restaurant.  It was open air in the middle of town and was a Mexican place I am pretty sure.  The waitress arrived and began taking drink orders, she talked to us all like she knew us because she did.  We had all gone to school with her years ago.  It didn’t seem the least bit odd that we had all shown up together in her restaurant.  There was a sudden rustle and I realized my wife had just gotten out of bed.  I peered at my phone and it said 5:44.  I had overslept.

This morning at 4:30 my wife’s alarm went off.  She said her clock said 5:30 but the TV said 4:30 and she asked me to check my phone to make sure of the right time.  It was 4:30 and we both drifted back off into dreamland.  In what seemed like about 3 minutes I was getting out of bed and rubbing my eyes.  What in the world kind of dream was that?  I walked into the bathroom and my wife was brushing her teeth.  We both commented on how fast the past hour had gone by and I told her that I think when a half-dozen people you knew in high school show up in a dream, it may be time to stop reading Facebook right before bed.

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April 10, 2012

Some Like it Cold

By Simon

Sweet

Leftovers for Breakfast.  FTW! 

Dear cold Soy saucy broccoli, how I love thee first thing in the morning eating you standing up in front of an open refrigerator without any pants on.  You know, in immediate retrospect, I think that the no pants thing might have been taking it a bit too far.  That being said, when I am concerned that my words haven’t quite hit the comedic tone I was seeking, I find adding something about no pants to the end never hurts.

I don’t want this post to take anything away from traditional breakfast foods and as a southerner, I  hold things like biscuits and grits close to my heart.  While an organized planned out breakfast is a thing of beauty, there are few things that this world has to offer sweeter than eating cold leftovers for breakfast standing in front of the refrigerator.  I guess you could go to the trouble of putting that pizza on a plate and sitting at the table but it is 7:30 in the morning, what am I some kind of weirdo?  When you eat it standing in front of the fridge it is kinda like it didn’t really count.

Last week we had some people over for dinner and my neighbor was kind enough to leave the spinach dip she made.  I thought about texting her first thing the next morning to tell her she had already made my day but didn’t want to sound like some kind of freak.  That cold spinach dip was the best thing I had eaten for breakfast in a long time.  Let it be known that she left crackers as well and I didn’t just eat dip with a spoon like some kind of animal. Cold Spinach dip was a nice start to a non-traditional breakfast weekend.  Sunday morning brought along another favorite but rarer treat.  The candy breakfast.  For the most part on Easter and Christmas morning I can trust that the first food I am eating  is chocolate.  Pretty awesome to proudly have peanut butter cups for breakfast with no fear of being judged, heck, you can even post a picture of your half eaten bunny on the internet and people will think you are some kind of hero.  To be honest though, there is one minor drawback to your breakfast coming wrapped in tiny pieces of foil.  It pretty much insures your metabolism and energy level for the day will be akin to a bottle rocket.  Lots of blast and fury out of the gate but just doesn’t quite last long enough to get the job done.  I couldn’t do it every day but twice a year candy breakfast is pretty sweet.

Weak

lobster pager (weak)

I love restaurants.  I worked in them for years and the whole idea of having servants to cook, clean, and bring me things  for me for about an hour has a certain appeal.  Lately though, I have been rethinking my approach.  You see we have a little one that is at that adorable age that she has decided she is too big for a high chair but she is still very capable of needing stitches at any minute.

We were at the beach last week for some spring break fun and as many do, we washed the sand out of our nooks and crannies and headed out to become slaves to a little pager thing that beeps and lights up to tell us it is our turn at the trough.  For the most part, everything was great but every now and then a dining experience steadily spirals out of control and sucks the joy out of a night quicker than a Cajun with a crawfish.  We had one of those experiences last week.  Having been there myself, I have an incredible amount of empathy for the restaurant business but sometimes you have to take a stand.  It is probably one of the weakest of the weak but last week I had to pull out the big guns and do something that no one wants to do.  I asked to talk to a manager.  Pretty weak.

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March 21, 2012

When Did Giving You Money Stop Being Enough?

By Simon

Sweet

100 % More Country Stats 

About a month ago WordPress launched a new blog statistics page that shows the country that the click to view your blog originated.  If I am representative of many new bloggers, we begin writing because we have a creative side that needs to get out or have something funny or interesting to say and keyboards rarely interrupt or doze off in the middle of our diatribe.  Then in some mysterious way we kind of get sucked in to who is reading our stuff and even resort to surfing around other blogs leaving lame comments in hopes that they will return the favor.  Honestly I have only heard of that method of generating new readers.  I have never tried it myself.

I will be the first to admit though, that knowing people are reading your blog or even winding up there on accident because they Googled the word squatchy is pretty sweet.  For a certain period of time we get sucked into the statistics page and even neglect things we once held so dear like Facebook to see if anyone new has stopped by to read our nonsense.  I think it is a phase that we bloggers mature out of and realize that the reason we started a blog wasn’t to win a Shorty award or turn our blog into a NY Times bestseller.  We hold onto the dream of one day being Freshly Pressed but for the most part go back to our roots and write because we have things to say, not because we want to pump up our stat bar.

That was me, a happy maturing blogger that had gotten over my stats obsession and had shifted focus to writing what I wanted to write and enjoying the community of readers and fellow writers out that make the blogging process so rewarding.

There timing was impeccable.  Just as I had situated myself on the high road and stopped measuring my self -worth with my blog stats, WordPress showed me a page full of awesome little flag icons that tell me all of the places in the world my blog has popped up on a screen.  Just like that, I am sucked right back in.  I don’t have a huge map in my office that I put thumbtacks in every time I see a new country or anything, but based on the stats page this blog has been either viewed or accidentally stumbled upon in 57 different countries since the new feature started.  It probably seems silly to most people but if I see that 4 or more people in Paraguay clicked on my blog I decide it wasn’t an accident and I think it is pretty sweet.

This may be the closest I ever get to a glamorous life of international travel and I am OK with that.  So if you are reading this today or randomly landed here after Googling “ideas to disguise a TV remote” (true story) Where ya from?

Weak

What Happened to “Here’s your Receipt, Have a Nice Day.” 

Have you bought anything lately?  I am not sure exactly when it happened but it now seems like every transaction concludes with me getting a to do list.  I just gave you money.  When did that become not enough?  Here is the thing, I don’t want to be entered in your sweepstakes. I don’t have time to go home and spend two hours filling our surveys for every store I walked into at the mall today.  I am not going to go to this website and make sure I rate your service excellent just because you told me to.  I have stuff to do like spend 30 minutes thinking up back stories to who is reading my blog in Morocco.

Is it too much to ask to go back to the way things were?  Are people doing this?  Are people actually winning a $1000 gift certificate to Lens Crafters?  If I call the cable company because my favorite show Happy Endings isn’t coming in clear do I get to talk to a real person faster if I agree to the short 5 minute survey at the conclusion of this call?  I get it, in today’s world of business buzzwords, every single breath we take needs to be measured and the results quantified.  Somehow, some out of touch with reality power point slide has trickled all the way down to me standing in Sears pretending to listen to your spiel waiting for you to let me go so we can finally do something fun and get free samples in the food court.  If my opinion is really that valuable to you can’t you just install one of those Facebook “like” buttons next to your cash register?  I would happily take a second of my time to high-five a blue glowing thumbs up button if I knew I wouldn’t have to take home a four foot long receipt with different sections circled and your name scrawled across the bottom in a plea for me to rate you excellent.

If you work in retail you probably hate this more that I do and I truly empathize with you.  Getting a sales pitch, a guilt trip, a chore list, and a pocket full of paper when all I wanted to do was buy socks is totally weak.

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March 12, 2012

Some People Don’t Have to Search for Their Inner Child

By Simon

Sweet

via wookieepedia

Being a Kid at any Age

I will be 34 years old later this month.  Perception of that age lies solely in the beholder as I am still a spring chicken to many and old man river to others.  I don’t have any issue with getting older and have been sporting that distinguished salt and pepper look for close to a decade now.  One of the reasons I don’t worry about getting older is because by now I have realized that there is a part of me that remains a perpetual child.  I do my fair share of grownup stuff like pay bills and taxes and schedule parent teacher conferences but even in a deep-sea of responsibility I cannot escape certain Peter Pan type tendencies.  I don’t do these things as a concerted effort to “stay young at heart” but I know that they probably help.  Here are some of the ways my inner child escapes no matter how old I get.

  • If I stop at the grocery store on my way home from work I still get the kid cart with the race car because, hello? race car!
  • Though not often down south, if I am ever driving and it starts to snow, I pretend I am taking the Millennium Falcon into hyper-space.
  • The only downside to two daughters is toy shopping, that’s OK though, I bought a suction cup dart blow gun last week that is suuweet!
  • BOO! If given the chance, I will always lurk in the shadows so I can scare you when you walk in.  Then you will slightly pee yourself and I will crack up.
  • Race Ya.  To the mailbox, folding laundry, cleaning up toys, I am always up for a good race.
  • Chasing the ice cream truck.  This is way less embarrassing now that I have kids with me but one day I will be frantically searching for loose change in my room at the home when I hear that thing rolling up the street.
  • Licking the spoon. (no explanation needed)

I could go on and on because to be honest I still probably do more kid things than grown up things but I will start the list with these and let you add your tips on staying young and feeding your inner kiddo.  I once had a dream I was licking frosting off of the mixing spoon when I heard the ice cream truck coming down the street, I looked at my wife and she said “race ya” and it was totally sweet.

How do you keep from growing up?

 

Weak

I didn’t Know That was There Until it Hurt So Bad 

via someecards

Man, I am getting old.  I know this because after working in the yard all day yesterday it hurts to type.  Yeah you read that right, my hands are sore.  As much as I may be a perpetual kid inside, there is no mistaking the fact that the new car smell has worn off and some of the features of this thing don’t work like they used to.  I often joke about the 20-year-old me shaking his head in disappointment if he heard some of the things I say or think today.  For example, I now place real value on something called a good night’s sleep.  There is no escaping it, somewhere inside of me is a cardigan sweater, the faint smell of Ben Gay and the desire to cut out things from the newspaper.  I hold that person at bay the best I can but here are some of the things that remind me that I am no spring chicken any more.

  • When people come over I want them to take off their shoes and stand on our new memory foam bath mats.
  • I researched toothbrushes online and read reviews.
  • I know better than eating too many cucumbers.  Ever get indigestion when you were 22?  didn’t think so.
  •  I know that if I took acetaminophen 3 hours ago and my back still hurts, it is OK to take ibuprofen now.
  • I know the names of different kinds of medicine.
  • Food guilt. (Like standing over the sink inhaling leftovers at 11:45 at night and not being able to look in the mirror later.)
  • WebMD isn’t just for finding gross pictures anymore.
  • I walk down the cereal aisle and think “it can’t taste that different and 43 cents can really add up.”
  • Having a birthday coming up makes me think about getting older instead of hoping I get a 4 wheeler.

Sadly, I can probably fill this list out faster than the first one.  What are some things that remind you that you are getting older?  Realizing it would probably be a good idea to invest in a pair of work gloves is totally weak.

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February 14, 2012

Hello There Resolution, I’ve Been Waiting for You

By Simon

Sweet

Hello There Resolution, I’ve Been Waiting for you.

Weak

Extreme Measures  

It was Sunday evening and our sweet little 16 month old angel was being anything but angelic.  She seemed to be trying to make a statement to the family that this was her show and we were lucky just to have supporting roles.  She was cranky and whiny and just couldn’t get right.  She didn’t want to play and the only time she smiled was when she was taking something that she shouldn’t have and throwing it on the floor when we said no.

She may be the smallest member of this family but on Sunday night she was taking more than her fair share of the pie.  Our oldest just wanted to sit and color without prying crayons from her little sister’s mouth and the evening’s soundtrack of constant crying and bickering was putting everyone on edge.

With nerves starting to frazzle is was time for dad to step up and be the captain of the ship.  So, I walked into the bedroom, put on a pair of khakis, laced up my shoes and decided to make a stand.  This kid needed something that we apparently weren’t able to give her so I got her dressed and we headed to church.  Sometimes it is in our darkest hour that we turn to God for help.

Luckily the church is only 3 miles from the house so we made it just in time for the evening service to start.  I carried our little one and a bag filled with diapers and juice and Cheerios for her to sprinkle on the floor to the church nursery.  I checked her in, handed over her gear, and gave the nursery worker an apologetic nod.  I should have slipped her a 50.

Then, without looking back, I walked out to the car and drove home basking in the silence and hopeful that the preacher would be long-winded.   Sometimes parenting requires an outside of the box approach and the next 90 minutes of monster free peace was just what we needed.  I said a prayer of thanks to baby Jesus and gloated a bit at my stroke of genius.

This didn’t really happen but when your kid is bad enough that you contemplate extreme measures it is totally weak.

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January 26, 2012

So This is How Thomas Edison Must Have Felt.

By Simon

Sweet

Kitchen Serendipity 

Some days just seem to drain you.  After a long day at work the gauntlet of preparing dinner, giving baths, helping with home work, and trying to spend quality time together as a family can sometimes be intimidating.  From time to time on days like that we have a “whatever” dinner.  This is where someone eats leftovers, someone eats cereal, someone has a sandwich, and someone wanders through the cabinets and refrigerator on a culinary scavenger hunt.  That last person is usually me.

Most of the time I put together something quick and easy and on rare occasion, even fairly tasty.  Sometimes I will get in a little over my head and can tell that the vision I had for the meal is falling apart.  That is when I rely on my basic guy instinct and apply a little culinary duct tape.  Bacon.  If something is going south in the kitchen, bacon can usually fix it.  Wrap it in bacon, sprinkle bacon bits on it, or in extreme cases just toss whatever you were making and enjoy a plate of bacon.

Every now and then I have a moment where it all comes together and I don’t even have to rely on the duct tape of food.  A few weeks ago I went to make a sandwich and realized we were out of a very key ingredient.  If I had poured a bowl of cereal and we were out of milk it would have been time to back up and punt because there are no real options there.  On this occasion, however, the peanut butter had already been applied and when  there was no jelly I decided to go for it on 4th and long.  I usually would have just had a peanut butter sandwich and forgone any other ingredients but on this night I was driven by creative inspiration.  What I did next is fairly amazing.  In fact you may want to sit down and buckle up for this because it has the potential to blow your mind and rock the culinary world.   Once I tasted my creation I realized how Edison must have felt or at the very least the guy who invented the Sham-Wow.

PEANUT BUTTER AND RAINBOW SPRINKLES SANDWICH

You are welcome.

Totally Sweet.

Weak

Would you care for a some anxiety with that? 

Is there a more nerve-racking experience in life than being with your significant other in the checkout line at the grocery store and realizing that you forgot something but deciding that there is time for one of you to run and get it before the last item in your cart crosses the scanner?  It is one of the quickest decisions ever made.  The time remaining for the rest of the items to be scanned is quickly estimated and then divided by the estimated time it will take me to find the tin foil and get it back to the register and then in a flash I am off.

When I am at the grocery store with my wife, I am like a passenger in a car.  Although we both arrive at the destination I have no clue how we got there.  I was too busy goofing around and looking out the window.  I know the foil is on an aisle with paper towels and garbage bags and other non-food items but where was it?  I remember seeing it but have no idea where.  The hour-long zig-zag march has disoriented me a bit, I am tired and hungry and know if I waste the time walking by every aisle I will never make it.  I am on the other side of the checkout lines now, back in the sea of cans and boxes and I look back to my wife for some kind of helpful signal.  I need her to hold up a sign that says aisle 12 but instead, the look I get is more of an emotional cocktail, 2 parts frustration, 1 part disdain, and 1 part anxiety.  I try to clear my head and scan the signs hanging from the ceiling.  Somehow an aisle with 1,400 different items is classified by a sign that lists six.

Suddenly as if a ray of light parted the heavens I see the words tin foil on the sign hanging for aisle 10.  I dart in that direction and find the foil.  Luckily it is at the end closest to the checkout lanes.  Unfortunately there are 72 different kinds of foil.  I want to text my wife for her guidance knowing that somehow even for a product as simple as foil I would pick the wrong kind.  I start to scan the different varieties but there is no time.  THERE IS NO TIME!

I grab the roll closest to me and it is as long as my leg.  I am sure I don’t remember having something like this in our house, probably wouldn’t even fit in our cabinet.  I grab the next closest roll and I go!  Feeling like Indiana Jones running from a giant boulder,  I weave my way through the crowded masses holding the foil high in the air.  I make eye contact with my wife for a split second before they roll away and see her folding the receipt and putting it in her purse.

Failure.

I knew that the seconds had been ticking down and I was out of time outs but I considered a Hail Mary and throwing the foil to her across 3 or 4 other checkout lanes.  While that would have been awesome and other husbands would have told of my heroics until it became legend, I restrained.  Instead I walked up to customer service where there was no line, put the foil and a five dollar bill on the counter and was next to my wife bag in hand before she made it to the automatic door.  Work smarter not harder.

Realizing you forgot something while in the checkout line is totally weak.

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December 5, 2011

Free Sample?

By Simon

Sweet

14 hundred hours, somewhere in metro Atlanta 

How do you know a movie you are watching is going to be good?  Favorite actor?  Good reviews?  Based on a book you liked?  Well for me,there is a litmus test that is tried and true.  Any movie that starts with the sound of a typewriter as courier font populates the screen telling me something like “16:00 hours somewhere in the Indian Ocean” will be a movie I like.   It may be cliché but  the typewriter intro has never let me down and I know when I see it that if all else fails this movie will probably have espionage, a car chase, and at least 3 explosions.  So basically, at bare minimum, not a waste of 2 hours.  I am not saying that all good movies start with the sound of a typewriter, I am saying that any movie that starts with the sound of a typewriter will be a solid investment.  In that same vein, a movie that starts with a montage set to some pop song where you see a person only from the neck down walking in and out of different shops and carrying different bags will probably be something you should just go ahead and stop now and use the next two hours evaluating your decision-making abilities.  To be completely honest, I am a sucker for a good romantic comedy and the great movies that use Christmas as a backdrop are one of my favorite parts of this time of year.  What is your favorite Holiday movie?  (what a cheap way to solicit your comments.)

 

Weak

Now what do I do with this toothpick? 

This past weekend I dined for lunch at a place called the Cajun Cafe.  I ordered “Cajun Chicken” and was then asked if I would like fried rice or Lo mein. What the heck?  You now get one guess on the type of dining establishment I was patronizing.  Correct, a mall food-court.  I am not certain when every place at the food court turned into Mandarin Express but I can tell you why.  The secret, my friend, lies in one small bite of saucy fried chickeny goodness on a toothpick being thrust into your personal space as you walk by.  Who turns down that little guilt free bite of awesome?  It rarely stops me dead in my tracks and causes me to drop everything an order a little styrofoam box of it.  But that sweet and tangy residue will linger on my palate long enough for me to give your eatery some serious consideration when decision time comes.  Inevitably when heaped in a pile into the big section of your to-go container it never has the same wow factor it did when the guy in the silly hat was out in front of the counter peddling his wares to the passer byes.  The thing about the free sample is that it always leaves you wanting more (that and toothpicks are awesome dining utensils).  One tiny piece of delicious chicken is just enough to peak our interest and not so much that we realize how “meh” it really is.  You can try asking for a toothpick and eating your entire meal with it but alas, you cannot capture the magic of a free sample.  Maybe it is a trend but for now, the next time you order a turkey sandwich or a gyro wrap in a food court be ready with your decision on adding an egg-roll for a dollar.  Cajun Cafe Lo mein?  Weak.

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November 18, 2011

Will there be Canned Cranberry, or Should I Bring My Own?

By Simon

Sweet

The Thanksgiving Sandwich 

I know that the Thanksgiving day meal gets all of the hype but come this time of year I start to crave one thing.  The Thanksgiving sandwich.  Either that night or the next day, cramming as many leftovers that you can fit between two slices of bread is the way I like to usher in the Holiday Season.

I am taking a break this year as I have been the CEO of the bird for the last 6 or so years.  Cooking the turkey can be one of those manly culinary exhibitions like making a pot of chili or grilling.  Last year I put a turkey on a giant Foster’s beer can and cooked it on an open flame just like baby Jesus intended man to cook.  But this year I am taking it easy.  So, since I don’t have to worry about targeting that 12 hour window far enough before Thursday that the store still has fresh sage but not too soon that it goes bad, I thought I would offer a couple of Turkey day tips.

1.Small servings.  I don’t mean, limit your intake all together but don’t fill up on the first pass.  There will be aunts people there that will measure their happiness and possibly some portion of their self-worth on who goes back for seconds on their dish.  So be a hero and start small and make several trips.  It isn’t like the extra walking is going to hurt.  Speaking of needing exercise, if you are a dude that could stand to drop a few lbs, this is even more important for you.  No reason for someone to feel like a failure because the fat guy didn’t even want seconds.

2. Get a can of cranberry.  It may not look too fancy jiggling there with its can lines wrapping around it but nothing goes better on a thanksgiving sandwich than slices of canned cranberry.

3. The sympathy scoop.  Don’t let anyone take home a dish that was barely touched.  I don’t care if you are 90% sure you see hot dogs and marshmallows in there, get a spoon-full.  Leave it for last then spread it out on your plate so it looks like you ate it.  Remember, these are the people you love, or at least pretend to once a year on this day.

4. Keep it classy.  Wine should not be opened before the Turkey float goes by on the parade.  (exception: if any part of the menu is being cooked outdoors an open beer is the most important cooking utensil regardless of time of day)

5. Wardrobe selection. You don’t need to go over the top here and show up in a Biggest Loser sweat suit but at the same time think ahead enough that you at least pick those pants that you are still “growing into.”

Last of all, say “Thank You”  and have a great time because eating until your left leg starts to go numb is totally sweet.

*note: not to brag but that is a picture of a turkey I cooked. (actually, that was totally to brag)

Weak

Holiday Haters 

I spend 364 days a year waiting for Christmas.  I get how that may seem strange seeing as how I am not an 8-year-old kid and stuff but that is just the way it is.  I get excited when they start putting Christmas decorations next to the Halloween candy and enjoy the buildup as much as any part of the holiday.  I really enjoy this time of year and not getting the strange stares when I pull up to a red-light with my windows down and Christmas music playing.  That was kind of awkward in August.

I get that the holiday season brings tons of angst and stress and the hustle and bustle is a turn off.  That being said, enough with all of the vitriol about decorations going up too early.  You are the boss of your own decorations and Christmas cheer.  Have you heard the new Justin Bieber Thanksgiving CD?  I didn’t think so.

I understand that I am a bit off-kilter with my love of Christmas and all that the season brings, but you will have plenty of time to vent your frustrations once the holiday madness begins and someone takes your parking spot.  Save your punches for the ring killer.

Hating on Christmas is totally weak.

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